


Falling Angels and Rising Apes

by raven_aorla



Category: Good Omens, Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Chuck is God, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, One Crowley, Season 5 divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 05:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_aorla/pseuds/raven_aorla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel knew the Angel Aziraphale had been assigned to bar Adam and Eve from returning to Eden, but thankfully there was far more to the story than that. Set during Season 5, with Castiel still angelic but waning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling Angels and Rising Apes

Not my characters.

...

"Humans need fantasy to be human. To be the place where the falling angel meets the rising ape."

\- DEATH of Discworld, as recorded by The Prophet Terry

...

The demons had the Winchesters and their increasingly frayed angel cornered.

"Can you pop us out of here?" Dean hissed as they pressed their backs against the wall, the leering and snarling horde ready for blood.

"That would utterly drain the last of my Grace," Castiel rasped. "Jimmy would die from internal bleeding, and I would have nowhere to go now that Heaven is barred to me."

Sam said nothing, but decided that if he needed to fall off the wagon again for it, he was prepared to drain as many demons as it took to keep the only people who still stood by him safe.

Then everything dissolved into white light.

...

"I think they're going to be more prone to shooting first and asking questions later, and I do not want to be sent back to Hell and have to explain myself, angel. Again. It's bad enough that I was demoted after that incident back in 1987..."

"Hush, dear, they're waking up."

Dean had been whisked away to a variety of fun and wacky places against his will. Heaven. Hell. An airplane. A suspiciously nice hotel. But this was the most unexpected.

He and Sam - Sam who was still unconscious - were flopped on a hideous plaid couch in a warmly lit room with a crackling fireplace and books lining the walls. Across from him on a little table was a tea tray set with five cups and saucers, along with a variety of dainty sandwiches and cookies.

He recognized the being sitting across from him, even though he (it) was wearing sunglasses for some reason, and promptly sat up to growl. "Crowley."

"I emptied your gun while you were out of it," Crowley said quickly. "Aziraphale, come do the exposition, would you? I'm not in the mood for posturing."

"What have you done to us? Where's Cas?"

A huge sigh followed from a voice out of sight. "Get the kettle from me, dear, I won't be able to carry it and untangle my poor brother from me at the same time."

Crowley rolled his eyes and made the 'whiplash' gesture and sound effect, but walked to the kitchen anyway.

"Your guardian is fine, Dean," this "Aziraphale" said, still out of sight. "He's just a little...er, overcome, at the moment."

Sam woke with a jerk. "What's happening? Where are we?"

"Stay calm," Dean admonished.

Crowley returned with the teakettle and Aziraphale shuffled after. He had to shuffle, because he was required to drag Castiel, who was wrapped around his left leg like a traumatized toddler. "England. London, to be precise. Oh, do stop it, little one." The man, who was probably an angel in a vessel judging by the name, looked about Crowley's age but with blonde hair, blue-gray eyes, soft white hands, leather moccasin shoes, and a tartan sweater vest. Sort of a Cosmic Librarian.

"You have traces of His Essence," Castiel whispered, his facial expression the same as it almost always was, but his eyes glistening the tiniest bit with tears.

"I'll get to that. Have some tea."

"I do not require tea."

"I find it makes everything feel better. Humans are delightful in their inventions." He touched Cas' forehead lightly, and Castiel let out a long breath.

"Thank you, Lord."

"I am not your Lord. Just another of your brothers."

Sam groaned. "More angels?"

"Aziraphale isn't your typical angel," Crowley said, spreading cream on a scone. "For one thing, he is bloody fantastic in bed."

Dean had a sudden coughing fit and Aziraphale's ears turned pink.

Castiel shook himself, then let go of the other angel and sat on the couch. "I do not understand."

"Who is this? Do you know each other?" Sam asked.

"Not personally. Only by reputation. He is not...as I expected."

"Oh, the muffins are burning!" Aziraphale cried, skittering back to the kitchen.

Crowley snickered. "Such a princess, that one. I'll fill you in, since you all seem to be a bit shell-shocked. I'm not actually a demon, first off. I'm a fallen angel. Sort of. I like to think of myself as having sauntered vaguely downwards."

"I do not see the humor," Castiel muttered.

"Oh, be quiet, Thursday. I'm one of the last of the original Host. Except the last time I helped avert the Apocalypse with Goody-Two-Wings over there I incurred Lucifer's wrath and was crammed into the body of a common demon after they thought I'd cried 'Uncle' enough times. Forced to work the crossroads, the petty bargains. Me! The original Serpent!"

"What, you were the Serpent?" Sam asked.

Dean frowned. "As in, 'Apple yummy, om nom nom'?"

"As you elegantly put it, yes. Aziraphale, now, he belongs to the tier just below the main Four and just above Castiel; the Principalities. More specifically, he was the Angel of the Eastern Gate."

Sam's eyes widened. "Him. Tea and cookies guy."

"They're called biscuits, child," Aziraphale replied, wiping his hands. "I'm afraid the muffins are lost. We'll have to content ourselves without them."

"Care to fill me in on what that means?" Dean asked.

"When Adam and Eve fell, there was an angel assigned to guard the gate with a flaming sword so they could never return to Paradise," Castiel said, staring at Aziraphale's feet. "That is the end of my knowledge concerning you, brother."

"There was no one to act as a vessel, so Father made a new body for me." Aziraphale put a sugar cube in a cup of tea and stirred it thoughtfully. "They looked so cold and scared, Castiel. Eve had a child on the way, they were naked, winter was coming. I couldn't bear to watch them."

"So the sentimental fellow just handed the sword over to Adam," Crowley said. "Have some tea, Castiel. Aziraphale makes the best cuppa in the solar system."

Castiel sipped his tea like he expected it to turn into holy fire at any moment but didn't want to be rude by declining. "You disobeyed."

"He was angry at first. Demanded to know why I did it, saying that I too would Fall. And then..." A tiny, private smile tugged at Aziraphale's lip. "I asked him what good it would do for angels to Fall if the apes could not Rise."

"You didn't tell me about that bit," Crowley said, putting a hand on Aziraphale's knee.

"No occasion to, my dear. In any case, the answer seemed to pleasantly surprise Him, and he gave me a gentler sentence. He strengthened my ties to corporeality, gave me my own Grace independent of Heaven though still answerable to it, and said that if I loved the humans so much, then my triumph and tragedy would be to live among them, ministering to them, until the End."

"Lucifer assigned me to keep tabs on this strange angel," Crowley continued, nudging the sandwiches towards Dean. "Sandwich yummy. Om nom nom. We fought and negotiated for millennia. Then, well..."

"We realized we had more in common with each other than anyone in Heaven or Hell," Aziraphale finished.

Dean gingerly chewed on the tiny finger sandwich. Watercress. It tasted okay. "How are you still, um, well, I mean, Cas is losing the angel mojo just for helping some humans, so how are you still alive after boning a devil?"

"Is that how you had to put it?" Sam asked, taking a gingersnap. "I gotta say, though, I knew you weren't a common demon from the start, Crowley. You didn't smell like it."

"He tastes more sort of like an angel that's been simmered and flambed," Aziraphale murmured.

When Cas sounded like he was having a minor implosion, Dean instinctively thumped him on the back. "Geez, Cas, you okay?"

"I have not had hot tea up my vessel's nose before. It discomforts me."

Crowley handed him a napkin. "Thing is, Castiel's power is filtered through layers and layers of Heavenly bureaucracy...like a...like a power line that has lots of other lines coming off. Aziraphale has his own little nuclear reactor. It took me a while to get used to it."

"It took me a long time to find you, since Castiel took the precaution of the wards on your ribs," Aziraphale said, tentatively ruffling Castiel's hair. Castiel looked confused but did not move away. "I finally felt a desperate plea from Castiel himself."

"Do you know where our Father is?" Castiel asked, even lower than usual.

"No. But I have reason to believe He is neither dead nor indifferent. That is what I wished to tell you. Your despair is so very heart-wrenching."

"What and where, then, if not dead or indifferent?"

"The Antichrist you have dealt with is not the first. In 1987 there was a different attempt to start the Apocalypse. We were saved when that Antichrist chose not to follow his destiny. A disobedient son ended up having a disobedient son. Much of his power is gone now, but he still can...sense...goings-on Below. He told me that Lucifer has managed to seal this Universe where we live into a bubble. For this is not the only Universe in Creation. There are worlds without number, and angels for them all. Somehow, Lucifer managed to cut this one off from the rest. Father cannot influence us until Lucifer is caged again."

"Wait, wait, wait," Sam said. "If God is gone, and Lucifer doesn't want Cas working for him, how is Cas alive?"

Aziraphale smiled. "It wasn't easy, but I called in some favors."

"You...were the one who raised me?"

"Yes. And now that I know how, I will do it again and again as many times as need be, until we can finish this."

 

..........

 

"Sometimes I believe all traps are of our own making, and we back into them, pretending amazement all the while. Whether this is true or no, it is still a virtue to open cages." - Dream of the Endless, as recorded by the Prophet Neil.

...

"You know what makes me uncomfortable, Sammy?"

"Cas' true form being the size of the Chrysler building and Aziraphale calling him 'little one'?"

"Damn, I hadn't even thought of that. I'm not going to sleep well tonight. I was thinking of a whole 'nother thing."

"Crowley turning out to be a semi-good guy?"

"I'm used to people switching sides by now."

"Cas getting all hysterical and weepy? I mean, by his standards?"

"That does bother me, but what I was really hoping you'd realize before I had to spit it out is that they gave us this bed."

"I know we have to share, but it's plenty big and we can fit on it without touching each other."

Dean took a long drink of the spring water Aziraphale had placed by the bed. "Angels don't sleep."

"...So that's why they gave us this bed, because the winged ones are going to stay up all night talking..."

"Yeah. So why the hell does he even have a bed?"

Sam made a face, but after a moment he settled back into the blankets. "We already knew, and it's not like the motels we sleep in all the time are so pure."

"Gives me the heebie-jeebies, that's what."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm pretty sure Cas has never done it. With anyone or anything."

"Goodnight, Sam."

...

"Thank you for doing this. It was getting uncomfortable," Castiel said quietly. He kneeled in front of the fireplace, his vessel dressed in nothing but his pants and a thin cotton undershirt.

Aziraphale wore a simple flannel robe and wool scarf. He had a comb and a jar of olive oil. "Of course, little one. How you must have been suffering."

Shutting his eyes, Castiel allowed a tiny crack of his true self to seep through into this reality, just enough so that an analogy of a metaphor (of an idea of a concept of a thought) of his wings could unfurl. Aziraphale said a few soft words over the oil, then dipped the comb in it. It was far more a spiritual cleansing and tidying than a physical one, but still the sensation of being groomed was pleasant.

"I feel soiled. Weak. Now that I have doubt, there is no refuge any longer."

"You've got a nasty tangle here. Hold still."

"Where is the devil you love?"

"You spit the words out, and I understand why. But if Father is gone, at least for the time being, there is a massive deficit of love in this world and someone needs to fill the gap. Besides, has he not helped you?"

"I don't know what to think anymore."

"In any case, Crowley is out making a deal." Aziraphale put the comb between his teeth and smoothed a whorl of sorrow with both hands. That done, he went back to combing. "I don't enjoy his work, but he has to do it to keep Hell off his back, and at least in this assignment he doesn't harm any innocents."

"He mentioned stopping an apocalypse with you previously." Their eyes met.

Aziraphale looked away first, not from weakness but from pity. "Yes. I was forgiven. He had to pay, for his superiors do not forgive. He's not exactly the same any longer. Harsher. Coarser. A lot of the humanity he'd slowly taken on over the centuries has been stripped away. It was nearly six years before we achieved something close to our former intimacy."

"His vessel is beginning to wear. His eyes are only hidden from mortals by those dark circles. Soon he will not be contained properly."

"I know. We have identified a suitable replacement. I'm glad I've never had to bother with that for myself." Aziraphale thought for a moment. "Speaking of which, has it ever occurred to you that if you let Jimmy take over for a few hours, you could rest? You must be tired."

"I cannot let the vessel come to harm. You know that."

"Yes, but you are under my protection now. Also, every inch of wallpaper hides Enochian shields. I spent more than a year redecorating."

"Very well. I will return before long." And his eyes and mouth filled with white light.

...

Dean woke to the sound of sobbing. He pulled on a shirt and tiptoed down stairs.

It was Cas sitting in the kitchen, barefoot and in boxers and an undershirt, while eating a pint of vanilla ice cream. No, not Cas. The body language was all wrong. "Oh, sorry, did I wake you?" Jimmy Novak asked.

"Eh, it's okay. I don't sleep too well." Dean gave the man an awkward pat on the shoulder.

"Castiel is having a - well, the closest thing an angel can have to a snooze, I suppose. He's been run ragged. It's only possible because of Aziraphale's protection. He's too worried about me getting us killed to do this otherwise."

"They wanted me to be Michael's vessel."

Jimmy winced. "Good thing you managed to skip that. Though I will have to say that Castiel's been becoming more humane. Somehow, just a moment after I pulled myself together, the phone rang and it was Amelia. Wrong number, except it was right. We talked a little."

"That why you're crying now?"

"I'm not going to dignify that with an answer. Can you see if there's anything else in the fridge, please?"

Dean looked. "Do you like sardines?"

"Ugh. I remember Castiel eating raw meat off the floor when Famine got to us. I really wanted to throw up. The burgers were nice, though, after all those months without food."

"I believe that's my cue," Crowley announced, returning with some paper sacks. "Couldn't find a hamburger that would probably be up to your discerning tastes, not without using enough teleportation 'juice' to attract attention, but here's some Indian food if you want it."

Jimmy practically pounced.

"It still makes me nervous when you play Mr. Nice Guy," Dean muttered. He found some schnapps and poured himself a glass

"Well, Aziraphale promised I could break out some of the special props later if I played happy host."

Dean buried his face in his hands. "I do not need to hear about you getting it on with an angel."

"It's not like you haven't been secretly gagging for it yourself, pet," Crowley said, smirking. He dipped a finger in the remains of melted chocolate ice cream and licked it off his finger on his way out.

 

..............

"What has the harvest to hope for, but the care of the reaper man?" - DEATH of Discworld, as recorded by the Prophet Terry

...

Sam woke when the sunlight came peeking through the curtains. Like Dean, he didn't sleep well these days. No one seemed to be around. He went to take a shower.

Afterwards, he went see if there was anything to eat. Crowley was reading the newspaper at the kitchen table. Without looking up he scooted over to give Sam room.

"Morning," Sam murmured.

"Hi, Ssssam."

"Did you - did you just hiss at me?"

Crowley coughed and put the newspaper away. "My sshell is weakening. I ussed to be allowed my own cussstom body, like Aziraphale, but sssince my demotion I've been sstuck in a sseries of fragile oness." He lowered his sunglasses, revealing golden eyes with slit pupils. "Old traitssss."

Sam shrugged and rummaged through the nearest drawer. "Sorry. Anything I can do to help?"

"There'ssss oatmeal in the cupboard, by the way. You could give me a little of your blood, if you wissssh, ssssince you have the right combo of demonic and divine. Lucifer'ssss preferred vessel. It would help me hold together a little longer. I don't want to worry Aziraphale."

"Um..."

"You don't have to. I would help with the nightmaressss, though, no sssoul forfeited, as thankssss."

After a pause of consideration, with Sam reflecting on his dreams the previous night, he nodded slightly. "What do I do?"

"Come here." Crowley patted the chair next to him. Once Sam was close enough, Crowley put a hand on either side of his head, leaned in, and bit Sam's lower lip with sharp teeth.

"Ow!"

"Sssorry. Besst way." And they kissed, Crowley latching onto Sam's lip and sucking. While this was not an unmixed pleasure, Sam had to admit Crowley was an excellent kisser, which made sense given all the experience he'd had.

"You look like you're getting into it," a soft, initially unfamiliar voice said.

"Well, you know how it is," Crowley said after letting Sam go. His eyes looked normal again. "Humans get curious. Zira doesn't mind as long as I don't go below the belt with anyone but him."

Sam looked at what he first thought was Cas and blinked. "Jimmy?"

Jimmy forlornly waved. "Aziraphale insisted on showing Dean and I his collection of rare Bibles with mistakes in them, including the one that accidentally says, 'Thou shalt commit adultery.' Then Dean made the mistake of asking about his other religious texts. I ducked out to go to the bathroom. You might want to rescue your brother."

"If you could not mention what you saw..." Sam began, rising to his feet.

"I've got bigger things on my mind, seriously, and besides, I think I've only got about ten minutes before Castiel comes back. I can feel him waking up."

"What are you going to do?"

"Take a shower. Might be the last time I get to for a while."

...

Dean was digging into an apple pie - not a piece, the whole pie - when he heard the faint rustle of wings. "So you're back, Cas?"

"Yes." Castiel stood by the window, parting the curtains and gazing at the city outside. His hair was damp and tousled, his blue eyes large. "Sam and Crowley are playing a card game in the library. My brother has gone out on an errand."

"What do you think of him?"

"Grateful but perplexed. Perhaps a little envious. He seems comfortable as himself in a way I no longer know." Castiel stood in silence for a while. Dean waited, eating. Eventually Castiel continued, "I miss my Father."

"At least you know He's still alive. Probably."

Castiel played with the curtain sash. "May I ask a favor of you?"

"Depends what it is." Suddenly they were in the bedroom. Sitting on the bed. Castiel peeled off his coat and placed it on the floor. "What exactly..."

Castiel loosened his tie. "Nothing carnal. Don't worry."

"Uh, okay." He felt the handprint on his shoulder tingle as Catiel touched it. "I'm not sure where this is going."

Lying down with a long exhale, Castiel said, "Just stay here with me, please."

"I don't -"

"Please. Stay." Castiel shut his eyes, his face blank.

Dean stared for a long moment. Then he lay down beside his guardian, putting an arm over him and stroking the angel's hair with his free hand. "I'd rather you didn't tell Sam about this, you cute bastard."

...

"Anyone ever tell you you're a fuddy-duddy, Zira?"

"I'm pretty sure everyone does."

"Anyone ever tell you you're a sexy fuddy-duddy?"

"You. Incessantly." Aziraphale booped Crowley's nose with his index finger.

"Trying to read, guys," Sam complained, trying not to look at two intertwined against one of the bookcases.

"You could join us if you wanted," Crowley suggested.

"No thanks. Not my style."

The fallen angel winked. "You're chewing your lip again, boy."

Aziraphale slipped away from his partner. "Dear, be kind."

"It's not in my nature. It's not even really supposed to be in yours."

"Neither is eating sushi at the Ritz. Or feeding ducks at the park. Or having drunk conversations about dolphins." Aziraphale plucked a paperback from the shelf, incongruous among the leather bound tomes. "You may like this one, Sam. I tracked down the prophets who managed to get the most accurate story about the previous averted apocalypse, even though it was wiped from the memory of most of Creation."

Sam thanked Aziraphale with a slight smile, opening it to the cover page. "Good Omens. Nice title."

........................

"His madness...his madness keeps him sane."

"And do you think he is the only one, my sister?"

\- An exchange between Delirium and Dream of the Endless, as recorded by the Prophet Neil.

...

The sun was low on the horizon, and the angel had not initiated a single word or movement, just lay there like a troubled mannequin. "Uh, Cas?"

Castiel cleared his throat. "Yes, Dean?"

"Not that this is the worst thing in the world, but what brought this on? You've never exactly been Mister Cuddles."

"Aziraphale forbade me to touch his alcoholic beverages. I asked him what he suggested I do instead."

Dean wasn't certain how he felt about that. "Any reason it was me?"

"We share a...profound bond. And you have had longings towards me."

"What? No!" A look from those bright blue eyes silenced any further protests.

"There is no use in lying to me. I have touched your soul, left my mark on it, and this has left us inextricably connected. I am still sorting out my own emotions regarding that matter." Castiel had been staring at the ceiling all this time, but now he fixed his gaze on the human, and lightly rested a palm on his cheek. "I prefer starting on a smaller scale."

...

"You owe me a tenner," Aziraphale said quietly. He was seated on the floor, leaning against a large fluffy cushion, writing in a gigantic ledger where he kept the convoluted accounts of his bookshop.

Crowley nestled against him, drowsing. The infusion of blood from Sam had been helpful, but he needed time to fully incorporate it into his system, and it was better not to tax himself in the meantime. Also he had been spending entirely too much time away from his angel lately, juggling Hell's expectations with the agenda of Team Free Will. "Why?"

"Love, not lust. The two upstairs. I was right." Aziraphale scritched at Crowley's hair in a fond but distracted manner.

"I'll pay you after the Apocalypse fails to happen."

Sam returned from the kitchen, where he'd had a snack. He was still reading Good Omens. "These guys are a lot better writers than Chuck is. What's with the footnotes, though? And the jokes?"

"'Oh Lord, heal this bike,'" Crowley whispered, remembering the time he'd ribbed Aziraphale for insisting on "improving" the bike belonging to the girl they nearly hit with his beloved old Bentley (which Hell had confiscated as one of his punishments).

Aziraphale smiled, but there was sadness in it. "It was less stressful that time. Father was at least within reach. He was in the house while we played outside, not outright missing."

...

"Cas, you either have to stop acting like you're about to cry or tell me what's wrong." This was getting weird upon weird.

Castiel sat up and turned away. "It's not of import."

A slight ruffling noise and Aziraphale appeared before them. With the damn tea tray. "I made you some Darjeeling, little one. There's a bit of brandy in it, just a dram, because I can't having you getting plastered or emptying my wine cellar."

"No, thank you."

"You're practically shrieking with distress. You're going to give me a headache. Come on now."

The angels locked eyes for a moment. Castiel held out his hand for the teacup and drained it on one long gulp. "As I weaken," he said quietly, "my vessel's sorrows bleed into my own."

It took Dean some time to digest that. "Ouch."

"I have something that will help you feel braver. I need to find it though. Let me rummage." Aziraphale disappeared.

Castiel had the teacup grasped so tightly his knuckles were white. "I need to go to the bathroom," Dean said.

When he returned, Aziraphale was holding something up to the light. "I had to work very hard to get ahold of this."

Tilting his head in that quizzical, adorable way of his, Castiel made a disbelieving face. "How can you have a genuine one?"

"I've been on Earth as long as there have been humans upon it." Aziraphale placed it on his open palm. It was a rusty nail. "Fakes abound, naturally, and I tested hundreds before finding this, though I have had the time."

"This is...the holiest artifact I have ever seen."

"Crowley was using it to stick notes on a cork board in my office. When I told him what it was he nearly fainted. I had it cloaked, of course, to keep it hidden and also so it wouldn't burn him."

"You guys care to fill me in?" Dean interrupted.

Aziraphale smiled and touched the nail with an index finger. "One of the only two Crucifixion nails still in existence."

"Why do you show this to me?" Castiel asked.

"Because I want you to take in what Grace it retains. It will not stop your waning, but it will slow it, and perhaps give you enough strength to end this fight."

"This is too great a gift."

"Hush. You are a soldier. I turned away from that path long ago. I am a healer now, a scholar. I will have to send you back to America, where you must suffer and hurt, while I hide away here safe and comfortable. I hate this. I very much do." The nail started to glow as Aziraphale talked. "But I must do this, for if something happens to me there will be no one to resurrect you and no harbor for Crowley. Take it."

.........

 

"All Things Strive." - Wisdom of the Prophet Terry

...

"It's time for me to send you back. I'm sorry I couldn't give you a longer holiday." Aziraphale wrapped Castiel in a hug.

Castiel didn't hug back, but didn't resist or squirm either. "Thank you for your assistance, brother. I will remember what you have told me."

"My apologies, also, for what we have to do to Sam and Dean," Aziraphale added.

"Wait, what?" Sam asked.

Dean's hands clenched. "I thought you were on our side."

"Oh, we are," Crowley said, "but we can't risk anyone reading your weak human minds and finding out you know that. Especially a quadruple agent such as myself."

Aziraphale placed two fingers on Dean's temple, and Crowley on Sam's, wiping their memories of the past few days. Castiel impulsively squeezed Aziraphale's hand before the three were sent away in a flash.

"Such nice boys. I'll miss them," Aziraphale murmured. "Would you like some wine, my dear? I believe I still have a little of the Babylonian in the secret compartment."

"Sounds good. I hope your plan works. Having the tincture of Holy Agape on my lips to transfer to Sam made my face go numb."

"Sachiel..." Aziraphale's gray eyes sparked when he spoke Crowley's original, Heavenly name, and a slow smile bloomed from him. "Let me see if I can help your circulation."

...

"Look at you. There's not a speck of angel left in you, is there?" Pestilence gloated.

Castiel summoned the crucifixion nail Aziraphale had given him, and sank it into Jimmy Novak's palm. "Maybe just a speck," he grunted, rising to fight again.

...

Lucifer was ecstatic with victory. Sam Winchester had said yes. Castiel exploded with a snap of the Devil's fingers. Michael was absent. Bobby was dead. Dean Winchester would be dead in minutes after a few more blows.

Sam, inside him, was crying and begging for them to stop hurting his brother. Sorry, son, he's just being too much of a pain to continue to live.

Then he felt something uncomfortable in the pit of his essence. There was something in here besides just him and the little human soul.

Agape - the pure love of God for his Creations, the very same influence he had worked so hard to sterilize from the Earth. There was a tiny, tiny drop of the Holy Agape inside this body. How in all existence did it get there? He riffled through Sam's memories, unable to find the source.

Agape is unconditional, unselfish, unstinting love. The kind of love that feeds on itself, growing and burning through everything in its path.

He was unable to stop it as Sam grasped that hint of salvation with all his might, channeled through his love for Dean, and surfaced, pushing Lucifer down for the vital few seconds he needed to jump into the cage.

...

The Prophet Chuck finished typing the last page of "Swan Song" and sipped his Scotch. He felt warm and peaceful like he hadn't in ages. Then he felt something pulling at him...

He would normally have been scared after being whisked away to an unfamiliar location, but it was oddly okay. It was a library scented with cinnamon and vanilla, a fire crackling across from the hideous (but comfortable) plaid couch. A rumpled and sweetly dweeby angel he recognized from visions sat across from him, smiling. "Hello, Christophe."

No one had called him that since he was very young. "Hi."

"You don't seem frightened."

"I know you. I've seen you..."

"You know me better than that. Tea?"

"Yeah, sure."

Aziraphale busied himself with cream and sugar. "I had to pull you forward in time so you wouldn't get hurt during the civil war Heaven's been having. Tragic, tragic business. I've had to do a great deal of hiding to keep out of it. Dear Castiel cracked under the pressure. Declared himself the new God. He realized he had done wrong, naturally, but the Leviathans took him over just as he was trying to make things right."

"Wow. I didn't predict that."

This smile was a sadder one. "I'm sorry for what needs to happen, now, Christophe."

"Huh?"

"There are vessels, humans appropriate to house divine beings. But there are also aspects, human personas created specifically to be masks for the divine, diminished incarnations that turn celestial flame into hearth fires. It's time for you to remember the parts of you that were locked away for safekeeping."

Chuck felt something rippling inside him. "Oh...please, please..."

Aziraphale kneeled. "Thank you for your trust in me, Father."

The comprehension seared through the brain that only had a few seconds left of humanity. "It hurts!"

"Lucifer tried to banish You utterly. How clever to hide in plain sight. Please, be merciful to Crowley and Castiel. They tried so hard without You to guide them."

What-had-been-Chuck grew and brightened until He Was.

Aziraphale cast off his mortal shell in order to withstand the glory. "And Jimmy Novak too, Father, if he could rest, for he was perhaps bravest of them all."

The Presence, so thirsted for all these years, wrapped around him and spoke peace. "My faithful son..."

Everything changed.

But nothing was truly lost.


End file.
